9 October 2016

Force and fortune


On a sweltering Sydney day in December 1993 I stood in front of an overflowing congregation to deliver my father’s eulogy. It had been a harrowing few days, and I was in no fit state for public speaking. I have no record of what I said, but I recall that walking to the microphone was like walking through wet sand. As I waited for my words to find their way up from the pit of my stomach, everything seemed blurry and indistinct . A coffin that I didn’t want to see was the only thing in clear focus. Struggling to make sense of the scene before me, I knew that the chances of anything other than a deep sob coming out of my mouth were slim.

So I well remember the wave of empowerment I felt when my eyes finally settled on the faces of two of my most treasured friends. These two had come into my life via different roads, from different directions, at different times and for different purposes. Both of them were -and remain - essential to my life story. And my ongoing amusement. And my gin intake.

Seeing these two side by side at my father’s funeral somehow amplified the support that either might have given me individually. It was a bit like finding two corner pieces of a jigsaw puzzle at the same time – suddenly, a task that seemed overwhelming became just that little bit more achievable.
After seeing them - my corner jigsaw pieces - emerge from the haze, I opened my mouth to speak. The threatening sob stayed put, and my words found their way into the air.

Later, as my brothers and I shouldered our father's coffin and made our way slowly down the aisle, both of those friends stood tall, strong and reassuring. They held my eye and touched my free arm as I passed their pew. The strength of their stance and the power of their friendship got me outside into the sunshine.
A couple of years ago I stood beside one of those friends at his mother's grave. I watched him drop a flower onto her coffin and momentarily lose himself in  private thoughts and memories. Being there was an honour and a privilege for me. Afterwards, he and I walked together from the shady cemetery into the sunshine, then drove to his childhood home to indulge in a suitably celebratory wake.

Rest easy Gal.
Tomorrow, the other of those two friends will farewell her father. I desperately want to be there so I can hold her eye and touch her arm; to stand solidly in her hazy blur. But that’s not going to happen. Instead, on the far side of the globe, feeling helpless and a long way away, I will think about a dry-witted, open-hearted, multi-talented man who helped raise a remarkable daughter. I will try to stand tall, strong and reassuring for her, as she once did for me, and hope that she somehow senses it. 
And I will make time to celebrate the force and fortune of friendships that carry us through shadows and back into sunshine.

5 comments:

  1. The force and fortune of your friendship will be felt by your friend through multiple invisible airwaves and time warps. Your presence, Kate, is not only known to your friends by your physical appearance. She will know that you are there, in true spirit, brought across the globe with the power of love. My condolences to your friend and her family, I'm sorry you can't be there - there.

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  2. Kate, this story truly touched me... We already realized we had in common that we both lost our dad too soon, and that our sons never had a chance to meet and learn from, or to be incredibly loved and supported, by their grandfather.

    Now I realize we also have in common that unreal feeling of walking towards the front of the funeral home in dead silence, step up to that microphone, and having to deliver my father's eulogy. I didn't like the coffin there either, my dad's soul had already 'left the building'. I could feel it. I did it purely for my mother, saying a few words, being the youngest (I was 24) of his 3 daughters. It all went by in a blur.

    Afterwards, exhausted, but still waiting patiently for the long line of people coming to shake our hands and express their condolences, I suddenly saw my best friend's face in the line. I didn't expect her there at all, she never even knew my dad, but that morning at work, she could just feel that I might need her somehow. So she asked permission from work to attend the funeral, didn't get permission, but came anyway risking being fired. Just like you described, just her being there in that line of people I mostly didn't know, gave me the strength I needed. I will never forget my heart jumped, the sense of relief that she was there. She was my 'puzzle piece' ��

    And so, just as my friend felt the invisible tug at her soul that I might need her, your friend will feel that invisible spiritual vibe from you in her soul too... Just light a candle at the time of the funeral, close your eyes and visualize your friend's face, her heart, her feelings... She will pick up on that, no doubt.

    Thank you for writing this story so beautifully. It is in the moments of uncomfortable sadness or crises, that we come to realize who our special friends are... ❤️

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  3. Sue Stephens12/10/2016, 05:28

    Great words Kate - echoes how I felt in December 1993 when I was overseas and couldn't be there with you.... xxx

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    1. Thanks Sue. Even though that day is a distant memory now, I know your trusty representatives were there... xxx

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